Stop the World
by Tara Laurel
Summary: "Sometimes Jack thought life would be easier if he could stop the world from spinning. For one second, he could freeze everything and step outside of himself. He could look ahead and behind at his choices, mistakes, and for one single, solitary moment take in the silence, the nothingness – and breathe." Shortly after Jack joins the Mercers, tragedy strikes.
1. Breathe

**TITLE:** Stop the World

**CHAPTER/TITLE:** Chapter Fifty One/ Breathe

**RATING:** T (violence/language)

**A/N: **Wow, I know it's been a while since I did any Four Brothers stories! I have LOADS of them just sitting in my computer, waiting to be finished! I'm going to post this now and maybe it will make me finish it, along with the others! Whoops.

_Review please?_

**Chapter One: Breathe**

Sometimes Jack Mercer thought life would be so much easier if he could stop the world from spinning. If just for one second, he could freeze everything, where he was, where he was going, and step outside of himself. He could look ahead and behind at his choices, mistakes, and for one single, solitary moment take in the silence, the nothingness – and breathe.

It is something just about every single person does every single day, breathing. Humans come out of the womb having the innate sense and ability to do so. They do it to survive, to calm themselves, to hold in strong, volcanic emotions that if left unbridled could overpower us and erupt.

Jack couldn't breathe.

There was no space to do so.

Everything and everyone was closing in on him at a rapid rate. The world was spinning out of control. His world. His family. His life. It was too much. Too fast. He needed more time. Time to plan, to remember, to say goodbye, to play his music, to breathe.

Even as he contemplated his new grim fate and this implausible desire to grab the earth by its axis and click "pause", the seconds, minutes, were still spinning by.

Jack focused. He took a claustrophobic and cracked breath.

Another second gone. Forever wasted.

His life had always felt like it was spinning out of control. Evelyn had helped to steady his world. At least soothing his roller coaster down to a merry-go-round. Now, it was as if everything was in fast forward.

Jack had heard that when certain people hear life altering, world shattering, news or experience some traumatic event, that everything seems to put on the brakes and proceed in slow motion.

This wasn't true for Jack.

Sure, his life was being altered. His world was shattering, but it was still spinning, faster even. Time seemed to be skipping ahead, as if purposefully attempting to rob him even more. Everything was flying by him so rapidly, yet Jack was acutely aware of each detail that spun past him. Images were sharper, serrated. Words clearer, cutting. Emotions felt raw, real.

With everything he had, Jack reached out into the void, trying to pull himself away from it all. He needed to stop the world. He needed to get off. He had found a few ways to do so before, in what felt to him like a different lifetime. Heavenly chemicals that would take him as far away from the world in his mind as he wanted.

This time, he needed the escape more than ever. And this time, he had to do it on his own.

Jack willed his mind, willed every fiber of himself off the spinning storm. There was nothing in the void to grasp, to pull himself off with. He focused only on his craving for that sweet surrender, and with one harrowing step, Jack leapt off the world, falling eagerly into the darkness.

Everything was black and barren, and here – Jack breathed.


	2. Sick

**TITLE:** Stop the World

**CHAPTER/TITLE:** Chapter Fifty Two/ Sick

**RATING:** T (violence/language)

**A/N: **(Insert your own witty banter here)

_Review please?_

**Chapter Two: Sick**

* * *

_One Month Earlier..._

* * *

"Alright Jackie! Rise 'n shine, princess!"

Jack felt the covers being ripped away from him and sleep quickly evaporated from his mind. The chill that had been haunting his dreams now assaulted his body. The air seemed crisp, as if he had been sleeping outdoors. Of course, that was possible with how much he was known to sleepwalk. In his waking state, Jack vaguely wondered how he had gotten himself out of the house in the middle of the night without waking anyone. He had taken many midnight meanders before, but hadn't done so in years. He tiredly searched his mind for what nightmare had plagued him this time.

"Come on, Jack. I haven't had any beer or coffee yet, so don't make this hard on both of us. Ma sent me to get your sorry ass up and that's what I'm gonna do, one way or another."

Jack neglected to respond as he attempted to gain enough will power to peel back his eyelids and see how far he had gotten during his little subconscious stroll. All he could muster was a grunt and no open eyes.

"I am so not in the mood for this. Get your ass out of bed."

"Bed?" Jack somehow managed to speak, but his voice was thick with sleep and something else. "Wh –"

"Don't even think about pulling the sick card with me, either, Jack. You've been feeding Ma that bullshit for the last couple weeks and Angel used to try it all the time with me. You ain't sick. What is it? Kids at school beaten on you? Got a test or some shit? Avoiding an ex-boyfriend?"

"Go away, Bobby," Jack hissed.

"You are one lazy, punk ass –"

"Go. Away. Bobby." Jack repeated with a weak threat in his voice.

"Like hell you're gonna talk to me like that.'

"Just drag my ass inside already or leave me alone."

"Inside? What the hell? Man, are you sleep talkin' or just crazy? Open your damn eyes, Jack. You _are _inside."

Jack reluctantly obeyed, using more energy than he figured should have been necessary to pry his lids open. In a daze, Jack glanced around at his own bedroom.

"But – I thought I was –"

"You have a dream or somethin', Jack?" Bobby hedged the word 'nightmare'.

"Bobby," Jack moaned, the air still feeling as though he was exposed in the front yard instead of behind four walls. "I'm cold."

"Yeah, dipshit. I took your blankets off."

"No," Jack coughed and felt a shiver rip through his frame. "I'm – cold."

"You said that already. What the hell is this Jack? You're fuckin' shakin', man. If you're comin' off of some high or something, I will beat your ass for doin' drugs again."

"I don't feel good. Please. Just, please – Bobby, leave me alone."

"Jack –"

"Get Mom. Bobby, can you just leave me alone and get Mom?"

Bobby's jaw had been open to protest and it now snapped shut. This was no academy award winning performance by the youngest Mercer. After Jack having only been with them a short while, already Bobby knew his brothers' tricks backwards and forwards. Jack would get defiant and curse something fierce when awoken. If he was attempting the ill angle, he would do the same but then throw in a few feigned coughs and groans. Jack was simply not a good liar. He could clear out an entire drug store or swipe the clothes off your back, but if you caught him, he would always crumble. Jack was also not one to ask for anything, let alone beg. He cried out for his family during his nightmares or when there was serious trouble, but that was it. The mere fact that Jack had said "please" so desperately and then actually asked for Evelyn was enough to switch Bobby into protective big brother mode. Not to even mention the fact that he had called her "mom", something he had been noticeably avoiding doing.

"Jack?" Bobby leaned over and gingerly placed his hand on his brother's forehead, ignoring the pang in his chest when Jack flinched away; Jack always flinched when someone touched him, they all had in the beginning after Evelyn took them in. "Damn, Jackie. Feels like you're on fire, man."

"I-I'm f-freez-zing."

"How long you felt sick?"

"I dunno."

"Angel!" Bobby turned his head to the doorway and waited until a stretching form of his brother appeared.

"I'm up, damn it, Bobby. Just 'cause you're home now –"

"Go get Ma," Bobby cut in sharply.

"What's wrong?" Angel dropped his irritated expression in a fraction of a second.

"Just go get Ma, Angel," Bobby repeated in an unwavering tone and watched Angel retreat into the hallway.

Bobby quickly replaced the sheets and blankets that he had torn away from the teen, tucking them around the trembling figure.

"That better, Jackie?"

Jack closed his eyes and shook his head feebly.

"Where's Mom?"

"She's coming, Jack. You still want me to leave?"

Jack again shook his head and Bobby silently chuckled. Jack had grown and changed a lot over these past months, but some things never changed. Whenever Jack was truly scared, hurt or ill, he would become terribly clingy. Bobby didn't mind. It was a sign he trusted them, one of the first signs he had ever shown them.

"Okay. I'll stay. But only 'cause you're a little girl and asked so nicely."

"Bobby?" Evelyn's concern laden voice floated in from the hallway. "What is it?"

"Angel," Bobby nodded to his brother, "go get some blankets and the thermometer. Ma, he's real sick. Thought he was outside and is freezin'. His head's boilin' too."

Evelyn gently placed her own hand on Jack's forehead and again he jerked away. Bobby frowned. He hadn't reacted like that to Evelyn's touch in a long time.

"He's probably just confused," Evelyn whispered to console her eldest. "He definitely feels like he has a fever."

As she finished speaking, Angel returned. Bobby grabbed the blankets and began draping them over Jack as Evelyn took the teenager's temperature.

"101.3," Evelyn sighed. "I'll keep checking and if it gets to 103, he'll have to go to the hospital."

"Ma, you got work," Bobby protested.

"My sons are more important than my job." Evelyn said sternly, though it was through a smile.

"Your job keeps your sons from starvin'," Bobby grinned. "Go to work. Don't worry. I can take care of the kid."

"I heard that," Jack mumbled.

"Seriously, Ma, go. I got this."

"Alright." Evelyn eyed him suspiciously. "But you know how he gets when he's sick. I'll leave you instructions and if his temperature –"

"I know, I know. I took care of all my little brothers when they were sick before, remember? I'll be fine. He'll be fine. Go."

"Thank you, Bobby," Evelyn stood and kissed her eldest son's cheek before patting Jack's hand. "Come on, Angel. Bobby's staying here, I'll give you a ride to work instead. But you might want to put on a shirt first, dear."

Bobby snickered at his half naked brother before turning his attention to his ill brother. The smirk faded from his face and all the was left was a set jaw and worry-lined forehead.


	3. I Wanna Be Well

**TITLE:** Stop the World

**CHAPTER/TITLE:** Chapter Fifty Three/ I Wanna Be Well

**RATING:** T (violence/language)

**A/N: **thanks for all the wonderful reviews and follows! title for this chapter is from a Ramones song.

_Review please?_

**Chapter Three: I Wanna Be Well**

"Jack, what the hell are you doin?"

Bobby had just been climbing the stairs for yet another pop in check up of his baby brother when he had heard the thump. Thinking Jack had managed to fall out of bed or stumbled trying to get to the bathroom, the eldest Mercer vaulted the last three steps and hurried to the room in four quick strides. Instead, what Bobby found was almost amusing, had it not also been annoying.

Jack was sitting up in the bed, well, attempting to. At some point, he had reached for purchase on the bedside table and had succeeded in knocking over his lamp. The blankets were tangled around his body like restraints and if that sight wasn't comical enough the electrocuted hairstyle nearly did Bobby in.

"Getting up," Jack grunted as if it was the dumbest question his brother had ever asked.

"Like hell you are." Bobby crossed the threshold. "What is with you? You cry to stay in bed and now you wanna get up."

"Shut up." Jack tugged and twisted at the sheets.

"Damn, your mood swings sure kick in when you're sick, don't they?"

"I've got practice with the band after school. I need to go –"

Jack was finally free from his blanketed bindings and lifted himself off the bed. He had barely straightened himself out when the wave of dizziness swept over him violently. His knees buckled and he found himself heading for the floor. Arms caught underneath him and he glanced up to find Bobby dragging him back to bed without missing a beat.

"I'm fine." Jack's grumble was more of a whine.

"'I'm fine', says the idiot falling on his fucking face. Damn, you need to start eating more, Cracker Jack. It's like carrying a damn doll."

"Whatever," Jack mumbled, not having the strength to make a connection with Bobby and dolls in a joke as he had grown accustomed to the household banter and even had dared to throw in a few jabs.

Instead, Jack merely slipped into bed and swiftly covered his frame with blankets, pulling them up to his chin in an almost juvenile fashion.

"There somethin' you wanna tell me Jack?" Bobby crossed his arms and sat down by the teenager's curled up legs.

"Not really." Jack's voice was muffled against the fabric of his pillow.

"Bullshit," Bobby shook his head. "This fucking fever. The fact that you're always tired when you sleep all damn day. You're 'bout as skinny as a ten year old girl –"

"Leave it alone, man." Jack pushed his sheets away in frustration. "I'm just sick. Can I sleep now?"

"Sleep, band practice, sleep. Make up your damn mind Jackie. Jack?"

Bobby looked down to find his surrogate baby brother already taken away by slumber. The attempt to stand must have quickly drained him. Bobby shook his head and drew the covers up to Jack's neck before standing and silently backing out of the room.

What he had said to Jack had been true, even if he had laced his concern with teasing. Jack was sick, a lot. Runny nose, scratchy throat, headaches, flu; anything that was going around seemed to find him and latch on tight. When Jack wasn't at school, the boy would sleep until one of his new family members would come and drag him downstairs, in Bobby or Angel's case, the act was quite literal. And no matter how much the kid packed away, which was about the equivalent of three teenage boys combined, he still failed to put on any pounds. He hid a lot of the illness from Evelyn, but Bobby noticed, which definitely meant Evelyn did too. She had checked into his medical records and was seriously considering taking Jack to see a doctor.

Of course she would have to enlist one of her other sons to help her with that, or maybe even all three. None of the Mercer boys were particularly fond of doctors or hospitals, but even Bobby throwing a bedpan at a nurse when he was thirteen was preferable to what happened when "Jack" and "doctor" were mentioned in the same sentence around him. It was the kid became a different person. Jack, for the most part, was quiet. Sometimes unsettling so. He would recoil if touched and scream out from nightmares, but he never became violent. He was hardly even disobedient, loud, or anything similar to the older Mercers. He seemed to be a shell of a normal teenage boy. But, then again, there was nothing normal about what Jack had endured before becoming a teenager. Evelyn was just happy he had survived his childhood at all.

Despite the usual quiet and withdrawn nature, there was one thing that could draw a completely different personality out of the boy. Over the years while in various foster homes, Jack had managed to bite one of his doctors to the point where the man required stitches in his thumb, kick an attending in the shin, scratch a nurse's arm enough to draw blood, jump out of a moving vehicle on the way to the hospital, punch one foster mother in the nose when she tried to drag him to a clinic, and more that the Mercers admitted they probably didn't know about. Jack wasn't mean. In fact, Jack was one of the kindest kids Evelyn had taken in. After witnessing this reaction first hand, the woman could only describe it like one would describe a terrified animal. Jack would become feral; shrieking, kicking, thrashing, running, clawing, clinging to door frames, whatever he could do. The boy was reduced oftentimes to hysterics and sometimes didn't even remember hurting anyone. Other times he did, and well, that was far worse.

Bobby was surprised the kid hadn't reacted when Evelyn had mentioned a doctor in his presence earlier. The inaction on the boy's part was just another reminder of how sick his baby brother truly was. Just another reason to worry him that much more.


	4. Living a Lie

**TITLE:** Stop the World

**CHAPTER/TITLE:** Chapter Four/ Living a Lie

**RATING:** T (violence/language)

**A/N: **I know this idea has been done before, probably to death. I'm not trying to copy anyone.

_Review please?_

**Chapter Four: ****Living a Lie**

_"I don't know why, I don't know why I'm so afraid_  
_I don't know how, I don't know how to fix the pain_  
_We're livin' a lie, livin' a lie; this needs to change_  
_We're out of time, we're out of time and its still the same"_

_- Stop the World by Demi Lovato_

Jack gripped the counter and stared miserably at his own reflection. The sight in front of him brought the teenager to shudder. It had been three weeks since the last time Evelyn had allowed him to miss school. Three weeks since he had overheard her and Bobby talking about doctors. And three weeks, since Jack had started living a lie. He hid everything he could. The exhaustion, the illness, all of it. He had already been doing so before, but now he became meticulous. Each day, just like this one, he would crawl miserably out of bed before anyone else in the house was up, and pad to the bathroom. Each day, he would track his deteriorating health, and make the necessary adjustments to his disguise.

Jack had always been slender, but now it almost appeared that his skin was hugging the bones. He watched his weight decrease day by day on the bathroom scale, and day by day he added another layer of clothing to his outfit. The extra fabric didn't attract attention as winter was soon to be upon them and Jack actually appreciated the added warmth he could never seem to get enough of. The dark shadows underneath his eyes did not help the disturbing image. He had been getting, on average, eight hours of sleep every night, retreating to bed earlier each evening, claiming homework or practicing on his guitar. He also chose naps over food during lunch period. He spent the majority of his time in Mrs. Kegan's algebra class barely conscious in the back row.

Below the dark circles, though, was something that Jack had not seen before until he got undressed this morning to shower and perform his daily check. Discolored rashes decorated his pale skin. His fingers begged to scratch at them, but Jack shoved them into his pockets. The jeans hung loosely, the waistband running painfully against one particularly large rash along his lower abdomen.

Jack knew he should tell Evelyn about everything that was happening to him, but simply couldn't bring himself to do so. If she knew, she would surely drag him to the hospital. He feared that building more than this sickness, whatever it was.

"Jack! You gonna take all day or what?"

Jack jumped at the sound of Angel's sudden voice. How long had he been staring at himself? He couldn't quite remember. Silently, he added the new addition of the rash and time lapse into his checklist of "shit that really shouldn't be happening to me" list. He quickly fumbled to pull his t-shirt and sweatshirt over his head. He took another glance in the mirror and groaned. He knew what he would have to do. With a begrudging sigh, Jack pulled open his guardian's drawer and rummaged carefully through her makeup. When he was finished, the area under his eyes almost matched his skin color and his cheeks did not appear as sunken in. He shook his head to think what Bobby would say of him putting on makeup and lowered his head.

"I'm gonna bust this door down if you don't –"

Jack clicked the lock and swung the door open, pushing past Angel quickly. He was barely breathing relief over getting past one brother when he collided with another on the stairs.

"Jackie," Bobby's voice was dangerously calm, "I think it's 'bout time you 'n I had a little chat."

"'Bout what?" Jack tried to sound casual, while masking the fear in his chest and fatigue in his head.

"You know what," Bobby hissed. "I know what's goin' on with you."

"W-what?" Jack's eyes briefly betrayed his feigned bravado.

"You got one fuckin' chance here to tell me the truth, Jack. If you don't, this ain't gonna end pretty."

"I – I don't know what you're talkin' about, Bobby."

"Fuckin' lie to me one more time," Bobby leaned forward suddenly, causing Jack to jerk backwards, his feet tangling as he nearly toppled over down the steps. "Shit. I ain't gonna really fuckin' hurt you, Jack."

Jack merely stared at Bobby, his frightened, yet hard gaze now calling Bobby the liar.

"Jack, you gotta know I wouldn't do somethin' like that." Bobby sighed. "But I _can _and _will _make your life hell if fuck with me."

"Bobby –"

"Lemme help refresh your memory," Bobby stood and pulled a small bag of white power from his back pocket. "Look familiar?"

Jack just watched hollowly as Bobby waved the substance in front of his face. His heart was crashing against his chest and his stomach had all but leapt up into his throat. In his preoccupation with hiding one thing, Jack had stupendously failed in hiding something else of almost equal importance. Where Bobby had found his stash, Jack had no clue. Upon a quick search of his memory, Jack couldn't honestly remember where he had hidden them that last time. With a hollowness in his stomach, Jack knew it wasn't the high that had made him forget. The drugs had been a way of coping for years. Sure, a foster sibling found out here or there, but most of them didn't care of joined in. When he moved in with the Mercers, it had initially been no different than before. Slowly, he found himself needing the escape less and less. Recently though, he had taken to using even more than he previously had. It was no longer about escaping the emotional pain of his past, but the physical pain of his present.

As Bobby fixed him with a stare that would have left a much younger Jack with piss stained pants, he knew he should be acting frantic or furious. Instead, he just stood there, too sick and too in shock to move. He could see the coat rack from the stairs, vaguely noting that Evelyn's coat and keys were missing. She had already left for work. Probably an emergency with one of her cases. Still, it simply caused Jack to worry more and less at the same time. More, because, really, just how much time had he missed spacing out in the bathroom? More, because who knew what Bobby would do to him without her there. Less, because she wasn't there to hear this conversation. Less, because he wouldn't have to see that look of disappointment in her eyes. Somehow, it was worse than the glares he had grown up receiving.

"Too fuckin' high to care, huh?" Bobby guessed incorrectly. "You'll care soon enough. You're done. I catch you with somethin' like this again, I swear Jack –" he let the threat linger before continuing. "This ends now."

Jack begrudgingly followed Bobby down the stairs and into the kitchen. Jack heeded Bobby's pointing and allowed himself to collapse into a chair at the dining room table. He wanted to curse at Bobby, to tell him that he had no right to do what he was doing. Jack wasn't Bobby's brother and Bobby wasn't Jack's guardian. He didn't for a second want to lose the drugs. He needed them. But he needed secrecy more than anything else. This family had been growing suspicious of Jack. Let them think it's drugs. Drugs was better than letting them know the alternative. It had to be.

Jack had just put his hammering head down in his hands when something slammed against the table. He groggily glanced up to see a tall glass of water at the edge of his nose.

"Drink," Bobby commanded with no room for objection in his tone. "And when you're done, you'll drink another – and another – and another – until that shit's flushed outta your fuckin' system. I don't care if you have to down lake fucking Michigan. You gotta piss, I'll take you to piss. And I'll stand in the damn doorway holding your hand if I have to until you're good 'n ready to come right back down here and keep going. Then, you're gonna sit your ass on that couch so I can keep an eye on you. Well, get the fuck goin', here, princess. I ain't got all damn day."


	5. Unwell

**TITLE:** Stop the World

**CHAPTER/TITLE:** Chapter Five/ Unwell

**RATING:** T (violence/language)

**A/N: **I know the pacing might seem off. I had a lot of these main chapter ideas written out a long time ago. I'm actually not adding much filler to them to save time and to spare you a bunch of exposition. I hope that is okay with ya'll. Title from Matchbox 20's song, Unwell.

_Review please?_

**Chapter Five: Unwell**

Jack's entire form violently quaked as he retched into the porcelain, his knees becoming chaffed and sore from the near permanent residence he had taken up in the bathroom. He was no longer sure if it was the mystery sickness or withdrawal that was inducing the never-ending vomit parade. Every inch of him screamed out in protesting agony. His head was crowded with clanging symbols and thundering tools. Jack half hoped that it would all just kill him and put him out of his misery. He was too fatigued to fight Bobby or even sneak around him. He simply felt weak, wounded and worthless. The entire process wasn't helped in that Bobby posted himself, Jerry or Angel on 24-hour-Jack-watch. Hiding was hopeless. He was even having difficult hiding the physical ramifications of the illness on his body. He was allowing them to believe it was all the drugs doing. But each day their glances grew more and more concerned, or to Jack, suspicious.

Jack wasn't sure he wanted to know exactly how many days he had spent kissing the toilet. He blearily remembered Evelyn trying to talk to him, and then minutes – or was it hours – later, she was outside the bathroom, in a heated discussion with one of his surrogate brothers. He couldn't decipher which one. He did manage to hear the word "hospital" and was about to try to lift his body off of the tiling when another wave hit him and he retched once more. By the time he was dry heaving, he had forgotten about the overheard conversation. All he cared to think about then was the cool cloth that someone had graciously placed over his forehead as he slumped back against the bathtub.

Eventually – again, Jack didn't care to know how much time had gone by – Jack was on the mend. Well, at least, he wasn't spewing his guts every five minutes. He felt marginally better and therefore was back to being able to pull on a mask and hide the other effects of this mystery illness. He was just relieved that no one had tried to bathe his sweaty and stained body and happened upon the rashes.

The brothers didn't miss the sudden change in behavior.

"You think he's usin' somehow?" Angel questioned at the impromptu brotherly meeting while Evelyn was downstairs with Jack.

"I dunno," Jerry shook his head. "He's weird, man. Not just withdrawal. But not like high or shit weird."

"Well, shit, Jerry, thanks for cleain' that up for us," Bobby rolled his eyes. "Only time one of us ain't around him, he's at school."

"And I got that covered," Angel nodded.

"We got eyes at the damn school, eyes here, what are we missing?" Jerry sighed hopelessly.

As if on cue, their conversation was abruptly interrupted by a sudden shattering downstairs. The brothers took off to the source of the noise in unison, barreling down the steps and finally speeding into the kitchen. The sight struck them all to slam on the brakes.

Evelyn was hunched over on the floor, pieces of plates surrounding her. That wasn't what struck them though. Underneath their mother's bent form, laid Jack. His eyes were closed and his mouth was hanging carelessly open. A small scarlet line ran across the side of his forehead.

"What happened?" Bobby hastily joined his mother on the ground, taking control of the situation, despite his own confusion.

"He was helping me set the table and just fell," Evelyn explained, tediously inspecting her son.

"Could be exhaustion from the withdrawal," Jerry reasoned practically.

"Oh, Bobby," Evelyn examined the minor head wound, "he's burning up."

"Let's get him on the couch," Angel suggested and moved forward to help his brother.

"I got him," Bobby declined as he lifted the tall teenager into his arms. "Shit. He's lost weight."

"You sure?" Jerry questioned as they moved to the living room.

"Yeah, Bobby," Angel added, trying to rationalize, "he's always been a fu – freakin' twig," he stopped short at Evelyn's glare.

"I dragged his skinny ass outta bed three times this month," Bobby retorted hotly, fear coating the edge of his voice. "He's on somethin' else. Has to be."

"Well, we'll beat whatever the hell it is outta him when he wakes up," Angel nodded as Bobby placed Jack's limp form down.

"Bobby, Angel, language," Evelyn scolded. "That's enough. We will wait until your brother wakes up and then talk to him like normal, civilized people, instead of a pack of wild dogs. You are only going to make whatever this is worse. He's terrified of you boys enough as it is."

"And that's a bad thing?" Angel scoffed and received yet another hard glance.

"Us?" Bobby snorted. "Scary? No way."


	6. Fever To Tell

**TITLE:** Stop the World

**CHAPTER/TITLE:** Chapter Six/ Fever To Tell

**RATING:** T (violence/language)

**A/N: **Thanks for the reviews and follows! You are all awesome, lovely human beings.

_Review please?_

**Chapter Six: Fever To Tell**

Life at the Mercer household seemed to shut down and slumber while Jack slept. Jerry neglected to accompany his wife on their weekly evening out. Angel cancelled his dinner plans with Sofi. Bobby called in at Johnny's where he was picking up shifts while home. Evelyn sat in an armchair opposite Jack, needle and yarn in hand, but fingers stilled.

"Shouldn't he have woken up by now?" Jerry finally spoke from behind the sports and parenting magazines he was pretending to read at the dining table.

"Quit your worryin', Jer'," Bobby deflected the comment with a wave of his hand.

"Bobby," Evelyn chimed in, "your brother might be right. Concussions can be nasty business."

"'Course Bobby'd know all about those from givin' 'em to 'nough people on the rink," Angel snickered as he pulled a Sports Illustrated from his brother's pile.

Bobby was about to bark back a brutal verbal beating when something distracted him. He immediately stood from his seat and was at Jack's side in a matter of seconds. The teen tossed and turned and twitched underneath Evelyn's quilt. His lips parted and sounds that were desperately trying to be words rolled scratchily out of his throat.

"Jack?" Bobby asked hesitantly.

"Bobby, don't," Evelyn warned as she stood, but was too late as Bobby had already brought a hand down against Jack's head.

Instantly, Jack shrieked and shied away as if Bobby's hand scalded his skin. The writhing worsened, Jack's legs beginning to bend and kick with more force Bobby knew he possessed. His arms reached and grabbed and punched frantically. Jack's scream ripped through the house again as the family gathered around the scary scene.

Jack had screamed upon waking from his nightmares before and flinched at touch, but he had never reacted like this. This was the Jack that fought against going to a doctor. This was the Jack that terrified even tough Bobby Mercer.

"Maybe it's the fever," Jerry considered, voicing everyone's unspoken questions and concern.

"Or the withdrawal," Angel added with a shrug and note of personal experience.

"Or both," Bobby bit off. "Who the fuck cares?"

"Bobby, language," Evelyn chided before kneeling next to a twisting and trembling Jack. "Jack, listen to me. Be calm and listen to my voice. This is Evelyn. Jack, this is your mother. I am right here. So are your brothers. We are all here. You are safe. You hear me, Jack? You are safe."

The more Evelyn talked, the more Jack seemed to settle, still occasionally sounding a stifled sob or turning his head. Eventually, the youngest member of the Mercer home went limp, muttering into the back of the couch as he rolled. It was only when he did this, that his shirt rolled up the back of his spine, and the entire room partook in a collective gasp and then silence, staring down at the discolored skin. The rash spread over the lower half of the boy's back and no one wished to venture a guess as to how extensive it had become.

Breathing deeply and markedly evenly, Evelyn made to stand, Bobby instinctively helping her to her feet.

"I'm going to call work," she announced in that tone that left no room for argument. "I won't be going in tomorrow. Bobby, neither will you."

"What about us?" Jerry bent his brow.

"Angel, why you don't you stay at your brother's house tonight?" She suggested. "Would that be alright with Camille, Jerry? You can take your brother to work in the morning. It's going to be difficult enough as it is. I think that having all of you there might just make things, more complicated," she strayed from using the word 'worse' - Evelyn always avoided saying anything negative in the same sentence as her sons. "But I'll need Bobby in case things, well, just in case."

"Where are you going?" Angel glanced from Evelyn to Jack, already knowing the answer.

"Tomorrow," Evelyn sighed, "we're taking Jack to the doctor."


	7. All Hell Breaks Loose

**TITLE:** Stop the World

**CHAPTER/TITLE:** Chapter Seven/ All Hell Breaks Loose

**RATING:** T (violence/language)

**A/N: **A longer chapter to make up for the shorter previous one!

_Review please?_

**Chapter Seven: All Hell Breaks Loose**

It was ironic. For the first time since this had all began, Bobby was actually marginally grateful that Jack was ill. Well, not unwell in general. He never wanted to see his new baby brother like this. But the teen's current state didn't come without perks. Not throwing punches when being taken to the doctor, for example. And yet, then again, if Jack wasn't sick at all, there would be no need to bring him to the doctor. Insert irony.

He had been sat down with a clipboard and pen and filled out the basic questions, with Evelyn's assistance. A nurse asked a few of her own questions and then disappeared. It was in that cold and quiet small room that Jack finally started fighting the fever. As the fog cleared, his panic rose. By the time the doctor sauntered through the door, the kid was practically levitating off his seat, a staccato beat being drummed against his knees with trembling fingers. He tuned out the initial greeting and platitudes. Jack nearly jumped when the man reached out toward him. He closed his eyes with cool hands prodded his neck, as he was asked to open his mouth. He went through the entire examination emotionlessly, robotically. It was the only way he could survive it without strangling the stranger in the white coat. When he was finally left alone and the doctor began speaking again, he was ready to tune it all out when Evelyn sharply prodded his shoulder to bring him to attention.

"I understand you had some examinations and tests done recently before being put into Mrs. Mercer's care after – an incident, is that correct?"

Jack glanced at Evelyn warily before nodding.

"Okay, Jack. I'm going to ask you some questions now. Some you may have already been asked by other doctors and some that might be tough to answer. You need to answer them honestly, otherwise I can't help you. Do you understand?"

Another silent head bob.

Jack listened to the questions and wordlessly answered each one with a corresponding yes or no movement of his head. That was, until one particular inquiry.

"Jack, have you ever had pneumonia?"

Jack's mind flashed to an unforgivably frozen winter's day. His hands pounded fervently against the door of his house. Still, his foster father refused to allow him entrance. It was only a month later he no longer had to call that place his house.

"Yes," Jack's voice was small.

There was an entire list of illnesses the doctor clipped off and Jack answered those that he could. His entire medical history was being put underneath a microscope. Jack didn't like it one bit.

"You're doing great, Jack. So far, everything sounds good."

How could it sound good? Recounting the past two years of broken bones, bruised ribs and concussions didn't sound good to him.

"Despite – circumstances – and, uh – physical injuries – you seem like you've been a healthy young man up until recently. Mrs. Mercer, here, told me over the phone that you've been having flu-like symptoms which you discussed with the nurse earlier."

Jack didn't remember that conversation. He hoped he had just blocked it out like he was trying to do right then.

"What – what do you mean 'flu-like'?" Jack swallowed. "It's the flu. Why do you have to ask all these damn dumb questions?"

"Calm down, Jackie," Evelyn cooed with one of her warm smiles. "Dr. Wallace is simply doing his job."

"I have here fever, fatigue, diarrhea, night sweats, some night terrors, and upon my examination earlier I discovered swollen lymph nodes in your neck. You told me there was some pain there?"

"Little," Jack shrugged.

"Anything else bothering you, Jack?"

"Yeah," Jack huffed, "being here."

Bobby snorted and Evelyn lightly reprimanded her eldest with a swat to the arm.

"The reason you came in today – though – was your family discovered some – rashes."

Jack shifted uneasily and kept his gaze down.

"Your physical examination also showed me that your weight is significantly down since your last visit. I also confirmed the fever. With the recent withdrawal you have been experiencing, it will be difficult to diagnose by mere symptoms. I'd like to run some tests before I make my final diagnosis. You will see a nurse before you leave who will take you to the lab to get your blood tests and a few other things taken care of. I wanted to get this little discussion out of the way first. You can make an appointment with the nurse at the front desk to come back in one week for the results."

"A week?" Evelyn sighed. "that seems a bit long, doctor. Isn't there anything else?"

"Alright, Jack," the doctor cleared his throat purposefully, "I'm going to be honest with you here. Some of your results from your physical exam concern me. There is one thing I would like to rule out. During your last hospital visit, your doctors reported some things that, well, Jack, some injuries that indicate a certain – _level_ – of abuse. You refused to discuss it or receive the proper treatment for these injuries. I have to ask you this, Jack. Have you ever – had sex?"

The question blindsided the young teenager and his eyes darted everywhere but towards the other occupants in the room. His entire form was beginning the quake. He could feel all three sets of eyes burning into him.

"What the hell does that have to do with anything?" Bobby spat, defending the obviously disturbed Jack.

"Jack," Dr. Wallace ignored Bobby, "I need you to answer the question. It's very important. Evelyn and Bobby can leave the room –"

"No!" Jack's eyes flashed to briefly meet the doctor's.

"Okay, they can stay. Jack, whatever you say, stays inside this room."

"Jackie, sweetheart," Evelyn caressed the boy's arm, pretending to not notice his quivering flinch. "It's okay. You don't even have to say it. You can just nod or write it down. This is your choice. Whatever happened, it is okay. There's nothing for you to be ashamed of, you hear me? Jack, hey, look at me. Right now. Come on. If he did something to you – if he made you –"

"Stop it!" Jack was suddenly on his feet. "Stop! Shut up!"

"Don't talk to her like that," Bobby warned, reaching out towards the trembling and twisting teenager.

"Don't touch me!" Jack jumped back, knocking the clipboard from the doctor's hands and nearly tripping over Evelyn's feet. "Get away from me!"

"Do I need to call security?" Dr. Wallace looked towards Evelyn.

"No." Evelyn responded sharply. "He's a good boy. He's just scared. Jack, stop. You're safe. Come on, Jackie. You look at me. You're safe here. No one is going to hurt you. You are _safe_. Please, tell us what happened."

"I – I can't," Jack spoke helplessly as he calmed and collapsed back onto the edge of his seat.

"Yes. You. Can." Evelyn urged with an unflinching confidence. "You can do this. Whatever happened, you're safe now."

"You'll look at me differently," Jack whispered. "I know it."

"The only way I am ever going to look at you is the way I am right now, with nothing but love for you."

"You don't love me." Jack's voice was broken and dark.

"Jack, I don't think you know what love is," Bobby shook his head, his words more serious and profound than usual. "And you sure as hell don't know my Ma. 'Cause when she says somethin', she damn well means it. She don't bullshit. So when she says she loves you, it's the truth, kid. Period. No questions. Don't you ever call her a liar in front of me. Now, you can run away from whatever that bastard did to you, or you can fuckin' face it like a man."

"The only person who should be ashamed," Evelyn spoke up, "is the monster who did this to you. He did this. Not you."

"How many times, Jack?" The doctor questioned sympathetically after a significant silence.

"One," Jack bit off the word with a crack of his voice. "Just one. That was enough. He'd beat me, burn me, shoot me up, a lot of fuckin' shit – but never – not until that night. That's why I fought back."

The room fell silent for a moment and as Evelyn placed a hand on Jack's, she noticed when he didn't flinch. She also noticed her other son's fists slowly clenching. It was a good thing Jack's foster father was in jail, because he wouldn't survive her eldest's thirst for vengeance. Angel's corrupt and cruel guardian mysteriously ended up getting mugged and put into a coma after Angel told Bobby everything he had done, and that man was lucky.

"You said he would 'shoot you up'," Dr. Wallace hesitantly broke the silence. "Are you saying he gave you drugs? What kind?"

"I dunno," Jack coughed as caged tears leaked through. "Whatever shit he had left over from his own stash. Made me quieter and I wouldn't – struggle – as much when he beat me."

These were the last words Jack spoke during the visit. His entire body was coiled, ready to spring and flee. He ignored the rest of the doctor's questions and remained stiff when Evelyn led him out of the room and down the hall.

It was only when a woman tried to put a needle in his arm that all hell broke loose.


End file.
